


More Syrian Than Roman

by betterrecieved



Category: Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 17:38:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betterrecieved/pseuds/betterrecieved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlet.  How Nasir persuades Agron to release Castus in Mors Indecepta.</p><p>Pardon any mistakes!</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Syrian Than Roman

Agron enters tent to find Nasir divested of armor, loosened mane framing smirking face. He is clad only in loosely knotted red sarong, which slides low, exposing slender hips. 

Nasir holds aloft yellow veil, behind which slender torso undulates like serpent to beat of unheard music.

He stares up at Agron, eyes dark as moonless night.

Agron is no fool, knows what Nasir wants: Treacherous Cilician yet shivers in crowded tent with hands bound, despite Nasir’s quiet plea.

Agron is no fool; he also knows that Nasir has been trained to drive men delirious with pleasure. 

A look, a sway of hips, a flash of teasing tongue. Calculated, practiced, yet never cold, undercut as seduction is by Nasir’s intrinsic sweetness of character.

‘Agron, remove hand from fucking cock, and do not dare seek pleasure before I have had mine!’ 

Agron sits upon bedding with alacrity of chastened dog.

Nasir stands frozen for long seconds before he seems satisfied of Agron’s acquiescence. His body begins again to unwind as he smiles softly, drags veil slowly across hard brown nipples. Slowly spins to drape cloth around firm gyrating ass. 

Nasir’s hips draw invisible circles which expand and contract, ass bouncing as he rocks from side to side.

Agron digs fingernails into palms. He is hard as rock, feels fluid surging through his length to make wet spot on front of subligaculum.

Nasir’s cock tents front of sarong when he faces Agron again. Adding thrusting pelvis to array of sensuous movements, Nasir skips forward, drags veil gently across Agron’s face.

‘Undress,’ he orders.

Agron is standing naked almost before word leaves Nasir’s mouth.

Nasir smiles and trails veil down Agron’s body. When he whips fabric away, it glistens with streak of Agron’s fluids.

Nasir looks at veil, looks at Agron. Lifts veil to mouth and licks material clean.

Inflamed, Agron’s lunges forward. Nasir dances away from him with question clear in pouting face.

‘Nasir, do not continue this,’ Agron warns. ‘I have told you that I hold no trust in pirate!’

Nasir looks up through thick lashes. 

Begins to untie sarong.

*

‘Do not fucking cast that look,’ Agron growls, scowling down at grinning Nasir. 

When he is sure that Nasir can no longer see him, he smiles.

More Roman than Syrian, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> For [eclectic-turmoil](http://eclectic-turmoil.tumblr.com/), who asked for "Altenate prompt: Someone really should write the smut around Agron releasing Castus. Maybe Nasir saved some gimnastics for a special ocasion".
> 
> I put Nasir in his red freakum dress because that’s something he would likely have around to wear, plus he wears it like a sarong, so…I call it a sarong in this fic. I don’t know the correct name for it unfortunately…


End file.
